Same Old Song and Dance
by PrettySiren
Summary: Jude comes back from her summer tour and there's a load of drama to deal with. Mainly, drama with Tommy. POSSIBLE SPOILERS, you've been warned. Think of it as a parallel universe set in season 2.
1. Chapter 1

:Disclaimer:I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Instant Star. The title "Same Old Song and Dance", I got from an Aerosmith song. No infringement intended.

"Same Old Song and Dance"

_Thud, thud, thud. _The noise rouses me and I sit up, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. Turning to the widow, I see small pebbles being thrown at the glass, bouncing off, making the soft _thuds. _A smile creeps onto my face as I suddenly realize what today is—it's Saturday and not just any Saturday, I'll have you know, but the Saturday that I, Jude Harrison, play the rock concert I've always dreamed of right here in Toronto.

"Never let it be said that you're not subtle, Jamie," I say, leaning out the window, beaming down at him. He's wearing a stupid hat, but it's a stupid hat I picked up for him while on the road, so it's all cool.

"I try," he replies, smiling up at me all cute like.

I missed him while I was away. I truly did, but something, something's just not right anymore, and I don't know what it is. I can't exactly tell him this, though.

Does my nose deceive me or do I smell blueberry pancakes? I follow my nose down into the kitchen where Mom is cooking just what I suspected. They smell yummy. I smile at her, "did I ever tell you how much I miss your cooking, Mom?"

"Only every day since you got home, honey," she told me, smiling sweetly.

Jamie came in, sniffing up into the air like my dog regularly does, and a grin spread onto his face. "Pancakes?"

"Blueberry," I reply.

Now, nothing can taint this moment, nothing but _her. _She came down the stairs with her bleach blonde hair a mess, her pajamas rumpled, and her night mask askew. If only _he_ could see her like that. I laugh at my own bitter thoughts. Should I worry about myself?

"Jamie, take off the hat," she says, her voice tired and no nonsense.

"Sadie, did you take your antihistamines this morning?" I shoot.

"What are you talking about?"

"I just think you need something to treat that _bitch_ of your's."

Well done, me. I can pat myself on the back for that one.

"Jude, language," Mom hisses, serving pancakes onto the plates for everyone."And Sadie, what's wrong with you? Jamie is company."

"Jet lag, Mom," the monster replies, yawning madly.

Sadie had returned from Italy grumpy last night. Mom, Dad, and I were greeted oh so sweetly by her. It was rather disturbing, actually. She looked like a zombie, mumbled at the airport, and then, once in the car, all she did was complain. It made me want to take my headphones and shove them up her nose, which I almost did, were it not for the fact that I really like them very much, the headphones, I mean.

"I think I'm going back to bed," Sadie yawned. "I haven't an appetite."

Little Miss Priss isn't hungry? What is wrong with her?

"Sadie, your sister's concert is this afternoon in the park." Mom tries, "don't you think you should stay up and get ready to go to it?"

"No," Sadie shook her head. She pulled her night mask back over her eyes and felt her way up the stairs, bumping into things.

"Jude, do you know what's wrong with Sadie?"

"Mom, I haven't known what's wrong with Sadie for several months now." Did I sound bitter? Good.

By this time, I'm shoveling into my pancakes, as I try to think of Sadie as little as possible. While on the road, I had a lot of time not to think about Sadie, or _him_. Good times, amigo.

I tried to make breakfast stretch out as long as possible, you know? I took two minutes buttering my toast alone, I asked for refills on my orange juice twice, and I had seconds on pancakes. Yes, I did feel like crap when I was finished, but it was a good sort of crap.

"About time to get going, Judester?" Jamie asks, looking at his watch. "It's eleven o'clock."

"I was supposed to be there at ten," I reply, smiling. My mission was accomplished.

My rationale tells me that if I try to procrastinate as long as possible, it means I'll have to see _him_ as little as possible at the show. See? I know what I'm doing...in theory.

Jamie drives me to the show; on the way, we pick up Kat, who finally returned from New York. Her internship went well and now she's even more trendy than she already was, but on the plus side, she's come back with loads of ideas for my wardrobe.

Driving up to the park, we can see the big stage being sat up. It's the sort of stage I've always dreamed of playing at. I cannot help but smile, eagerly anticipating the moment when I'm up there, singing my heart out to "24 Hours".

Darius is waiting for me on the side of the stage. He's talking on his cell phone, his left hand waving madly in the air, articulating whatever his words cannot say to a person who cannot see him. The scene makes me smile.

When he sees me, Darius isn't smiling. He hangs up on whoever was on the phone with him and he walks over to the passenger seat of Jamie's car, looking down at me, scowling even. He thinks he's tough; I'm tougher.

I roll down the window, humoring him.

"Jude, do you know what time it is?" he asks.

Yes, I know what time it is, Darius. That's why I'm here right now.

"Uh, yeah," I reply.

"I didn't know I had a diva on my hands," he replies dryly. "Get out of the car, Jude. We need to do a sound check on you."

Rolling my eyes, I get out of the car, and allow Darius to drag me by the wrist like a toddler to the stage. I'm handed my guitar, and a mic is placed on me. I'm thrust onto stage where Spiederman and the band are waiting on me. We begin to play and I lose myself in the music, my eyes, being hardly open as I play. We were playing "Criminal".

No sooner than I began, I'm pulled off the stage by the wardrobe lady and clothes are thrown at me, as I'm shoved into my "dressing room". Hair and make up take two hours. Two hours well spent, I might add, because they took me from Just-Woke-Up-Jude to Glammed-Up-Jude. I'm a fan of glam rock, sue me.

My concert begins at three and a local band called "Downtown Sasquatch" opens for me. They're pretty cool, from what I can hear of them, but it's hard to hear, being back stage with a thousand people buzzing around me like worker bees.

Pretty soon, I get a "your on, Jude," from one of the workers and SME and I troop onto stage as the curtains are down.

I get my start-of-the-show jitters as the curtain slowly rises and smoke fills up the air in front of me. Speed and the guys begin to play and so do I, strumming the chords on my guitar. I begin to sing "24 Hours".

When the smoke clears, I see that there are very few people in the audience, only about twenty, when I'm told the venue was expecting about five hundred people. I keep my face unreadable as I sing, but on the inside, I'm plagued. My concert hardly sold any tickets. What was up with that? During my solo, I chance a glance back at the guys and they are just as confused as me.

What is going on?

After the concert was over, the curtains went down and I march back stage, going to find Darius.

"Mind explaining the lack of audience, Darius?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. He was supposed to be my manager; he's supposed to be watching out for me.

"It's very simple, Jude," he said, looking me dead in the eyes, "you've lost your hometown audience. We're trying to rectify that."

"You can't be serious," I protest, looking from him to everyone else in the room.

Someone I expected to see sooner walks out of the shadows where I can properly see his face. It's Tommy.

"He is serious, Jude."

"And that's why we're getting you back to the studio, pronto, Jude," Darius said.

Back to the studio means only one thing. It means: back to Tommy, which means, back to drama. Oh, goody.

I hadn't been to G Major since June and when I get back, things have changed, and when I say changed, I mean they are _so_ _not_ the same anymore. Georgia and E.J. are gone. Darius bought the label from Georgia, got rid of her, and E.J. He says it's just business, but my keen rock star senses tell me that something is rotten at G Major Records. Furthermore, I don't even know why Darius wants G Major. His own label is more popular. I happen to think he's just being spiteful.

Tommy won't say anything against Darius.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask as he drives me to the studio the next day. "Normally you're pretty gun-ho about speaking out against Darius."

"The less you know about this, the better."

"I would've thought that with all that's happened between us, you wouldn't treat me like a child, Tommy. But, you know me, I'm wrong eighty per cent of the time."

"That's not it, Jude," he said. "It's just complicated."

"So, I'm stupid?"

"No, but you're hostile. Calm down, take a deep breath, and actually listen," he said this so loudly, I just wanted to hit him. I really did and I'm not a hitter. "We have got a job to do and it is _very_ important that we do it. There can't be any slacking off on our part, not now."

I roll my eyes and shake my head as he drives at dangerous speeds towards the studio.

"So, how about this: _I thought that you were right, but it wasn't meant to be, what you did last night, unwillingly, you set me free_," I sing.

"I don't like it," Tommy says, standing up, rubbing his face, stressed.

We're thinking up lyrics to my new single, but we can't agree with each other. I'm right though. Whatever it is, I'm right. Tommy's wrong. I like that dynamic.

He makes me want to scream. Seriously, he makes me want to scream. He makes me want to yell real loud. I'm so frustrated. I need coffee. The goffer brought me coffee, it tastes like dirt though. I can't stand to drink it. I actually had him take it back.

See, this is what Tommy does to me. He makes me be rude to innocent goffers. I'm not normally a rude person, either.

"Okay, how about this: _you think you're right, but you never really are, say good night, you've left me scarred_," I suggest. I sing it with anger. He's pissed me off.

"Are all of your songs about me!" he asks, and very angrily, I might add. I think I've struck a nerve, yay!

"Not all of them," I shoot back at him, standing up. My face is probably red; I could care less.

"You're actually admitting it?"

"Well, less face it, you're very inspirational!"

He throws down his pencil and says, "whatever I've done, just get it out your system. Scream about it. Right here, right now. We can't work if you're mad at me."

"You just want me to get this out of my system?" I ask, appalled. That was a really appalling comment. "You want me to get _you_ going out with _my sister_ behind my back out of my system, since betrayal is so easy to get over."

"I wasn't betraying you, Jude."

"Yes, you were!" Oh, God. I'm crying now.

"You don't own me, Jude." He says through gritted teeth. I really have struck a nerve.

"I never said I did!"

"Good!"

"Okay!" Where was he going with that anyway?

The door opens.

"What's going on in here?" It's Darius. He walks in and folds his arms. He looks almost tough.

"Nothing," Tommy says.

I try to quit crying. It's so embarrassing. Crying in front of Darius is embarrassing. Whatever cred I had with him has gone out the window now.

"Are you sure? Because there seems to be a problem here." He's stern. How very him of him.

"It's fine," I say, making my voice sound as even as possible. God, how embarrassing is this?

"I want to see something on my desk by six tonight." I don't think Darius even cares, not really. He just cares about the money I bring in.

Tommy nods silently and I don't do anything. I just stare at the ground, trying to play it cool, but who am I kidding? I am so far from cool right now.

Darius exits, leaving me and Tommy alone. That's probably not the best idea.

"How about we just work on the melody right now?" Tommy asks quietly, breaking the ear-splitting silence.

I pick up my electric guitar and play the most angry tune that can flow through my fingers. I've been kick-started, my fire has been fueled. There's no way Tommy is coming out of this session feeling good.

My solos speak volumes of anger. I'm glad.

We work out the notes, he writes them down and he finally says, "I like it."

"I'm happy we can agree on something." I say, setting the guitar back down.

I fall into a chair, feeling drained, feeling dead. I wish today would've gone better. Tommy just has to get to me, it seems like.

"Have you talked to Sadie recently?" he asks. I wonder where this comes from. Probably from a place I don't want to go...

"Not since yesterday morning, why?"

"No reason."

"Oh, come off it, Tommy. There's a reason. There's always a reason, so rather than finding out later rather than sooner, just tell me now."

"She broke up with me."

The words took a while to sink in. "She..."

"Broke up with me, yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he shook his head sadly.

This is about all I can take. I need to get out. "I'm sorry, Tommy."

I make an excuse to get out, something about having a cake in the oven at home. That worried him, since I'd been there for a few hours, so he wasn't offended about me skipping out.

I go to Kat's house and I cry. She doesn't ask why, she doesn't need to know, and after everything we've been through, she's still there for me. _That_ is the true test of friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I'm pacing. I'm actually pacing. Nonetheless, the cry was good for me.

"I wonder why she did it," Kat pondered out loud. "Wasn't she the one who was chasing him for so long?"

"You and I both know she only wanted him, because I wanted him." I spit venomously.

"Do you still want him, Jude?"

I stop pacing. "Why would you even ask that, Kat?"

Kat sighs and looks right into my eyes. I wish she wouldn't. I don't like to be looked at when I'm in a mood like this. "Just answer the question, Jude."

"How could I want someone who has done all that he has done to me?" I'm crying again. "He's put me through so much. I can't go back to that. I'm with Jamie now."

Kat looked away and down at the bed she was sitting on. "You're right. You're with Jamie."

"Yeah, I'm right."

"So, you shouldn't care about Tommy and Sadie's problems, right?"

I was taken aback by this, but I said, "right."

"Right."

"Right, then."

Oh my God. I think we've inadvertently made a decision of some sort. This is most troublesome. There is only one thing to do: I have to go see Jamie.

"Jamie," I say, finding him playing basketball in my driveway.

"I was waiting for you to come home," he said, throwing down the ball and walking over to me to give me a kiss. Stupidly, I turn away so that his lips land smack on my cheek.

He cocks his head to the side and asks, "is there something wrong, Judester?"

"No, nothing," I lie. I've decided he doesn't need to know about me crying over the whole Sadie and Tommy thing. It would only worry him and I don't want to do that. He's a good friend.

"Good," he smiles. "So, how's about I buy you dinner? Your mom and Sadie aren't exactly home and I know how much you hate cooking."

"Now, there's the best invitation I've gotten all day." I wasn't lying.

I lock my arm with his and he escorts me to his car. We drive to the burger joint where I order myself a bacon double cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake. Yummy. I can eat more than Jamie. It's a fact. He thinks it's cute.

After stuffing my face, I suggest that we go to the record store and make fun of techno albums. It was fun, but not like old times. Something about it just didn't feel like the old days anymore and I kind of got the feeling that he didn't entirely feel the same way. He was grinning like an idiot.

"Oh my God, you're Jude Harrison!" a seven year old screams, running up to me. She drags a man behind her and says, "dad, look, it's Jude Harrison!"

"You're right, Angie," says her father in disbelief. To me he says, "can she get your autograph?"

"Sure," I beam at them as he hands me a pen and my CD that he just grabbed off the shelf. I sign it, hand them back, and tell Angie to, "rock on."

She smiles and so do I. I made her day. It's humbling, really. I know that's hard to believe, but it's just something you'd have to experience to understand.

Angie and her dad walk away and Jamie looks at me and says, "well, in the old days, people weren't hounding you for autographs in here, but you know what? I could get used to it."

I laugh. Maybe my laugh sounded a little bit nervous, I don't know.

Jamie's expression changes slightly, to a less easy one, though he still maintains the facade of having fun."So, how did the recording session go with Tommy anyway? Did you two duke it out or what? And if so, can I be there for the next smack down? I need an excuse to where my foam finger thing."

I turn away, forgetting how much body language can say when words don't speak. Even though my back is turned to him, I know Jamie is frowning, because the atmosphere in the room has gone very dark.

"What did he say to you?" he asks.

"Nothing."

"Jude."

"Just stuff about him and Sadie. They broke up," my back is still turned to him. For reasons I can't explain, I couldn't look at him. I've become highly fascinated by a Doors album.

Pause.

"Does that make you happy?"

I turn around sharply. "Why would that make me happy?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"It doesn't make me happy."

"Does it make you sad?"

"No."

"So you admit it!" he says. He seems to think he's on to something or another.

"Admit what?"

"That them breaking up doesn't make you sad."

"Jamie."

"I'm going home, Jude." He shakes his head, unamused. "If you want a ride, you can come with."

"I'll walk." I reply, shocked by his sudden change in mood.

He turns to leave, but before he walks out the door and he says, "when you get _us_ sorted out, give me a call." On his face there's a smile, but it's a hurt sort of smile—not a happy one in the least."

And there I stand like an idiot, watching him go.

I hung back in the record store a little while, just wandering around. I wasn't really thinking. If I had been thinking, I wouldn't have let Jamie leave all mad like that. I need to tell him I'm sorry, but that can wait until the morning. With that resolve, I go home.

There, I find Sadie, lying on the couch, crying, watching an old sad movie. She wipes her eyes quickly when she notices I'm in the room and she says almost as quickly. "Mom's not here."

"Why did you break up with Tommy?" I say the words before I can stop my self. Stupid, stupid Jude.

Sadie's mouth opens and closes and opens again. "How did you—

"He told me."

Sadie eyes narrowed as she tried to wrap her head around what she'd just been told. She looked pissed and confused. "That wasn't his place."

"I think it kind of was, Sadie."

She stood up, her white silk night robe fell to the ground and if she wasn't so evil, she might look like an elfin princess. That is a major fault of Sadie's. She can be an angel, but she always chooses to be a demon.

"Well, now that you're back together, I realize the Tommy and Jude club has reformed, but still, he can't just tell you our personal business whenever he chooses."

"No, Sadie. You're right. It wasn't his place. It was your place. You're my sister. You're the one who's supposed to tell me. You're the one who's supposed to care about me. You're the one who's not supposed to freaking steal him in the first place!"

"I can't steal someone from you who isn't your's to begin with!"

That was when my hand came into contact with her face, smacking it so hard that my hand actually stung. Hurt like hell, but I didn't care though. She knows exactly how to push my buttons and she knows exactly how to hurt me and that's what makes her so cruel. She knows all the wrong things to do and she does them, because she's jealous and evil.

Her hand smacks my left cheek as hard as I smacked her right and she's trembling, enraged. Her face is blood red, but I'm sure mine is a hell of a lot redder. "Mom and Dad make good money, Sadie. I'm sure they can buy you a life."

"Just like you to always have some little almost witty remark," Sadie spat. "Now, get the hell away from me before I make you regret coming home tonight."

Pushing her hard down onto the ground, that's when I decide to go up to my room and play my guitar as loud as I could. Sadie is turning nineteen years old in just three weeks and is supposedly so much more mature than me, and yet, somehow, she manages to stoop to my level any time we fight.

After playing for a long, long time, I notice I've received a text message from Sadie. It reads: _I dnt no y u care about Tommy so mch. Btw turn down the damn amp!_

I throw my phone down. Fortunately, I happen to own the most indestructible phone on the market. Me, being me, I need an indestructible phone.

Sadie has a lot of balls to even send me a text. She knows I feel like scratching her eyes out. She's brave, I'll give her that.

When Mom comes home from her date at midnight, she marches into my room and lectures me about not hitting Sadie. She didn't know that Sadie had hit me, until I enlightened her, but she didn't care that much, because Judge Mom decided that I was in the wrong. More like Prejudiced Mom...

I'm writing a song about this. It merits a song. Sadie deserves it.

The next day, I take the song I am oh so proud of to the studio. Tommy has to see it. I don't know if he'll get it or what it's about, but I hope it leaves some sort of impression on him, however vague it may be.

In the hall, I am waylaid by Darius.

"Have you got another song written?" he asks.

"In fact, I have," I smile. "And, you know, I think you might like it."

"I hope so," a smile forms on his lips. He's pleased about the song. His expression is still light as he says, "Shay's coming back from his summer tour this Monday."

"Oh," I say. I don't want to hear about Shay. I'm really not in the mood to hear about Shay.

"Just thought I'd mention it," he smiles. "I'll let you be on your way."

He walks off and leaves me to stare blankly after him. I sense an ulterior motive. Lord knows Darius is full of them.

So, I'm heading into the studio, successfully shrugging off Darius, when what do my ears hear? From the open door, I hear voices. Tommy's voice is prominent, but I can also hear a vaguely familiar female one. I lean my guitar case up against the hallway and I crouch down, pressing my ear more closely to the crack in the door so that I may hear better.

"I haven't seen you in almost a year, Tommy," she says softly.

"I know."

"I've missed you."

He doesn't directly reply to her statement. "It has been a long time."

"You act as though you don't even want to see me."

"Of course, I want to see you." Now, he sounds hurt.

"Then, why are you acting so strange? We used to be so close."

"Things have changed," he says.

"And that's why I want to give us another try."

"What?"

"Just think about it, Tommy. You know I still care for you, I always have. Remember that."

I can hear footsteps nearing, so I stand up and pick up my case, and move backwards, pretending like I was just now coming down the hallway.

I see Darius's little sister coming out of the door and in the doorway, Tommy stands. "Goodbye, Portia."

"Bye," she gives him a small, polite smile, and smiling at me in the same manner, she says, "hi, Jude," as she passes me by, heading down the hall, presumably to Darius's office.

"Hi," I say, taken aback.

I'd only met her once before. She was Tommy's ex-wife. She got me on Darius's magazine cover and then, I never would've imagined that I would feel such negative feelings towards her as I do now.

"So, uh, Jude. What's up?" he says, inviting me to step into the studio.

Putting on my business face, I say, "I've written a new song."

"Really?" he asks.

"Let's just say I find Sadie inspiring at times."

Tommy's brow furrowed. He was worried by that statement, as he should be. He, most likely, could tell Sadie and I had a fight by now.

"So, um, that was Darius's sister coming out of here, right?" I say, unzipping my guitar case. I didn't make eye contact with him, because I didn't want him to see that I knew full and well who the girl was.

"Yes."

"How long had it been since you'd seen her?"

"Since you saw her last."

"I wonder why she made an appearance all of the sudden," I muse. I'm trying to coax it out of him. I don't want to let him know I was listening in on their conversation.

"I guess she came in to see Darius and thought she'd say hi."

"Perfect timing," I mumbled. Yes, I wanted him to hear me. To see how he'd take it.

He looked at me, shook his head, and turned around, heading to the sound booth. He stopped just short of the door and said, "Shay is coming back."

"I've been told," I acknowledge.

He stared at me for a moment, and then went inside.

Something isn't right. Somebody is hiding something, but, of course, I pretend I'm none the wiser to this concept. I just play right a long, because I'm smarter than Tommy gives me credit for. I know there's more intelligent ways to get down to the bottom of things.

At this point, I can't help but feeling I came home to more drama than I left while going on tour. My life is amusing, to say the least.


End file.
